Where We Go She Cannot Follow
by loveshopelost
Summary: Will and Elizabeth's wedding night on the island. Obvious AWE Spoilers, so please do not read this if you have not yet seen the movie. Rated Teen just to be on the safe side, there is nothing explicit to be found. WillElizabeth pairing.


Will jumped feet first into the murky blue waves that broke at the shore, letting out a low hiss at the ice-cold water that began to pour relentlessly into his tall leather pirate boots—just because he did not have a heart anymore did not mean he was incapable of feeling cold, real or otherwise.

His father's words played over and over again in his mind as he tossed the rope tied to the bow of the dinghy of his shoulder and began to haul the small boat ashore on the island where he was to meet with his wife. It was to be their last encounter for the next ten years for, as his father had said, 'where we go she cannot follow.' And indeed, she could not, for should he see her during his period of indentured servitude, it would mean that she had—that she was, well, _gone_, and that was the last idea he felt like contemplating at the present.

By this time he had pulled the dinghy sufficiently ways up the small stretch of sand the served as the little island's shore so as to be satisfied that the boat would not be washed away by the tide, leaving him with the unfortunate prospect of having to swim his way to the _Flying Dutchman_ the following evening when it came to retrieve him. But he really did not want to have to think about having to leave Elizabeth in fewer than twenty-four hours right now, either, the topic coming in at a close second on his list of 'Subjects Best Not Broached Especially While Alone—Or Ever'. Not that that prevented his mind reverting to either or both subjects whenever a lull in his thoughts occurred. It was slightly maddening.

A sudden sound behind him—the soft crunching noise seashells made when trodden underfoot—sent him whirling about to find the object of his thoughts standing a ways in front of him, staring at him with her dark, soulful brown eyes, looking oddly beautiful with, her wet, dirty blonde hair streaming out behind her like a banner. She had obviously gotten there long before he had and had taken time to prepare herself, for she was clad in nothing but a somewhat tattered Asian undergarment that bore a remarkable resemblance to a sleeveless dressing gown, and a pair of clunky leather boots, quite like his own, only smaller, that annihilated every fragile shell that dared to find itself underfoot with their thick soles and looked almost comical with her skinny legs sticking out of them.

"Hey," he said huskily, unable to stop himself from smiling slightly at the sight of her planted there firmly before him, looking just as she always had, his beautiful, brave Elizabeth. Indeed, it would appear that the only thing that had changed about her was her last name—she _was_ a Turner now, after all, he reminded himself as his smile grew.

"Hello," she replied, her voice soft, almost shy, barely carrying over the noise of the crashing waves around them.

He really had not the slightest idea how it happened, how he went from standing a good few yards away from her on the sandy excuse for an island one moment, to having her wrapped firmly in his arms the next, kissing her with a fervor only matched by the way in which a drowning man clings to life, fighting for air even though he knows there is none to be had. All that really seemed to matter was that it _did_ happen, and _who_ had initiated the contact seemed of little consequence.

They stood there like that for quite some time before her thin hands slipped through the opening of his scarlet pirate shirt and ran across the planes of his shoulders and down the hard wall of his chest as he held her, kissing her passionately, her overpowering need to feel his skin against hers completely erasing any and all other thoughts—that is, until the smooth skin of her hands ran over the knotted, rope-like scar that curved down his chest over the place in which his heart used to reside. Without thinking, she quickly pulled her hands away for fear of causing him any physical or emotional pain by bringing attention to the odd wound.

"It is quite horrific, is it not?" he asked quietly with a bitter smile as he looked away from her, releasing her immediately and stepping back ever so slightly as he attempted to put his shirt to rights, so it at least partially covered the ghastly reminder of his new position as Captain of the _Flying Dutchman_—his curse.

"I am so sorry, Elizabeth," he said without even giving her a chance to respond, turning back to her with a pained expression on his face. "Had I known that—_this_ (motioning helplessly to the scar on his chest)—would happen, I would never have bound you to me as I have done. Please forgive me my mistake—forgive me my selfishness."

"You are not a mistake, Will," she said incredulously, her face clouding over as she spoke, hurt and not a little upset that he had completely mistaken her initial surprise at his new scar for repulsion. Did he think her that vain? If so, she would dispel such misconceptions at once. "You never have been and never will be. As for being selfish, I suppose you are no more selfish than I myself am, for had our roles been reversed and had I known that this would happen, I still would have married you."

"It is hardly the same," he said, shaking his head slightly as though hardly daring to believe the sincerity of his words—hardly daring to hope. "You deserve a husband who is whole, a husband who could not only love you with all his heart, but be there for you every day of your life. In short, you deserve so much more than I."

"Listen to me, you hardheaded man," she said sharply, quickly losing patience with his self pity parade. Did he truly wish to waste their wedding night this? Even if he _did_, she most certainly did _not_.

To ensure not only that he was listening to her, but that he could see her face as she said what she had to say as well, she placed her hands on either side of his face and turned his head so he was looking her directly in the eye, before she began to speak: "Will, you, and you alone, are all I have ever wanted or desired and all I shall ever want or desire, from this day to eternity, and I will take you in any way, shape or form that you come, regardless of whether or not you think yourself adequate enough."

Then, when a sudden rush of tenderness overcame her towards him and his sometimes-frustrating, sometimes-endearing sense of nobility, she added, "I know you would do no less for me."

Through her initial irritation, Will could hear the sincerity of his wife's words in her voice and feel it in the tender way in which she touched him. He mentally chided himself for having so hastily attributed emotions to her he knew in his heart of hearts she was incapable of feeling towards him just because he a bit more insecure than usual, a feeling that he had quite obviously wrongfully assumed himself to have outgrown in the past few years.

However, he wanted this night to be one of love and passion, not one where he mulled churlishly over his shortcomings and past regrets. God knew he had already done enough of that to last him more than one eternity.

Much to Elizabeth's surprise, he abruptly swept her off her feet and into his strong arms, holding her close enough that the only things that separated them were the thin layers of linen that serves as their clothing. He gently nuzzled at her neck, the stubble of his cheek and jaw scratching against her soft, golden skin in a way that made her entire body tingle with anticipation.

"I love you, Elizabeth Turner, with all my being," he finally whispered, the combination of him calling her be her new last and name and his warm breath against her ear sending tingles down her spine. "Always have, always will."

"And I you, William Turner," she said tenderly as he began to press soft, wet kisses against her long neck.

A mischievous grin spread slowly across her beautiful face before being quickly discarded in favor of a composed expression as she moved her face and neck so they were just out of reach of his mouth, when she felt the sudden urge to tease him, an urge that would not be denied. Her tone changed from one of soft affection to one of faux seriousness as she said, "Before I can allow you to continue, _Captain_ Turner, I believe there is an outstanding grievance that has yet to be settled between us that I must give voice to."

"Is that so, _Mrs._ Turner?" he inquired with a hint of exasperation, abandoning his efforts to recapture her lips with his once more long enough to regard her from beneath raised brows.

"Indeed," she returned impishly as she evaded him yet again. "If you will recall, once before, our wedding was interrupted, depriving me not only of the immense privilege of being able to call myself your wife, but also of my wedding night, something that I had looked forward to with no little anticipation. Now that we have, at last, said our vows, and have been pronounced man and wife before God, most of the Royal fleet and every man who sails under a pirate flag, I hope I shall not be disappointed twice."

"Be careful what you wish for, wench," he said, his voice a teasing growl that made excitement pool in the pit of her stomach all over again as he carried her off to the little nest she had prepared for them behind a tall outcropping of craggy rocks. Somehow she had a feeling that this night would be the most memorable of her life.

-----

"It was always yours," he said the next evening with an odd little smile as he prepared to leave her, picking up the lightly pulsating chest which contained his still-beating heart and holding it out to her. "Will you keep it safe?"

"I will…" she whispered softly, barely able to get the words out from around the boulder-sized lump that had formed in her throat. She blinked several times in rapid succession in an attempt to keep the tears that had welled in her eyes from falling as she reached out a pair of trembling hands and took the chest from him. She had to be brave. It was what he deserved, what he needed.

As if sensing her pain, he moved forward, slowly lowering his face until only a scarce few inches of salty air separated them. For a moment it looked as though he were about to kiss her, and she felt her eyes flutter closed in anticipation of what never came. His bandana clad forehead came to rest gently against hers for moment before he seemed to decide that kissing her once more—or touching her in any way, for that matter—would only intensify her agony rather than assuage it. With that realization he turned abruptly on his heel and strode into the surf, pushing the little dinghy that would take him back to the _Flying Dutchman_ ahead of him.

But she did not want comfort, she wanted _him_, and without a second thought she had cried out his name and, setting the chest down carefully on a nearby rock, rushed into his embrace for what she knew would be the last time for the next ten years. Despite that, or more likely because of it, she kissed him with an urgency and roughness she could never remember having kissed him with before, her husband responding in kind as he crushed her to him and lifted her off of her feet swinging her around, the cool sea water of the waves tickling the tips of her toes.

All too soon it was over and she was standing thigh deep in the briny saltwater by herself, watching as her husband waded into the water ever deeper with his little boat, turning to her only once more before hopping in and rowing towards his waiting ship.

"Keep a weather eye on the horizon," he had said, and she had nodded numbly in response, unable to think of anything to say in reply.

Somehow, it was not quite the way in which she had pictured they would part as she had cuddled up to his to his sleeping form the previous evening, entirely spent from their love making. She had wanted to tell him that she would love him forever, until the day she died and beyond, and that, were it necessary, she would wait faithfully for him for an eternity, not because she felt like she _had_ to, but because she _wanted_ to. But as she stood there in the evening surf, watching him row away from her, towards his ship and his crew, hot, salty tears streaming unchecked down her suntanned cheeks, coated thickly with the dried sweat and grime that were a byproduct of several weeks at sea without a bath and last night's…_marital activites_, she knew that there was no need to put any of those sentiments into words. He already knew. She had proven them to him through her actions, and would continue to do so.

After her husband's ship had dove down into the murky depths of the ocean and she was left staring at nothing but the vast point at which the deep blue sea met the purple sky of twilight, entirely devoid of ships, she tossed herself down on the hard sand of the shore and stared up at the twinkling stars that were just started to appear in the rapidly darkening sky. And as she lay there, her face still wet with tears and her eyes puffy and red from crying, she could not prevent the laughter that swelled up from deep within her chest when her mind turned inexplicably to the days when she and Will were children, when they had first arrived in Port Royal, before society and rank had demanded they be separated, and how they were wont to spend the afternoons when inclement weather, of which there was much in the Caribbean, forced them indoors attempting to amuse one another by spinning wild tales of adventure and romance.

Never had either of them succeeded, in even their most outlandish attempts, in coming up with a story as perfect, as heart-shatteringly romantic as the one they had wound up living together. And though it had not always gone well, and though in parts it had seemed as though they would be cruelly ripped from one another's arms despite the best efforts of both to prevent such a tragic fate from befalling them, their love had withstood every trial, every tribulation, and would continue to do so until the day that they could be together again. Picking herself up off the ground and brushing at the grainy sand that clung to her dress and bare legs, she set about preparing to live her life until the day they could be together again.

**A/N:** I would really appreciate any and all comments regardless of what they offer, be it praise or consturctive criticism, as I love hearing from those who have taken the time to read my stories. As for this story, I never really intended to write anything for _At World's End_ because I have so many other writing project. But that intention, as intentions are wont to do, went the way of the dodo a few days after I had actually seen the movie, which I have only watched once, so please forgive any mistakes I may have made with the goodbye scene. Anyhow, there is more I am working on, something of a chronicle of Elizabeth's life without Will and the reunion after the breaking of the curse, so let me know if you are interested in reading any of that, as it may encourage me to write more!


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